He Had Just Started College Pt. 01

I walked softly as not to wake him. My good boy dearly needs his sleep. Naked and nearly hairless, his exhausted, slender body was sprawled across my bed as I eyed him like a satisfied lioness over a freshly conquered piece of meat. I felt like a combination of a harlot, a mother and a raptorial pedagogue to this young man. I have taken his virginity and his wide eyed innocence, but now, he belongs to me and I am free to enjoy him as much as I please. He is mine and he is not about to complain. Perhaps I should have questioned or even regretted my decisions of the past few months, but I have never felt happier or more empowered. I suppose I should explain this situation from the beginning.

Pt.1

The timing could not have possibly been better. As I tried to distract myself, I was becoming more and more anxious by the day. My fingers, fidgety and shaking, seemed to drop nearly everything they tried to grab and my stomach was an irritable ball of timorous nerves that refused to settle and became worse whenever I tried to eat or drink anything. I knew this time was coming, it was normal and natural. This should have been cause for celebration but instead, it felt like life was ripping something precious from my rightful grasp. My youngest was packing in preparation for a move to college and I was not nearly ready to let him leave the nest.

Single, and soon to be coming home from work nightly to an empty house, I was sad, afraid and neurotic. That all changed when Jane called me. She and I grew up together and her son, Zachary was preparing to go away to school. He would be three hours from their home, at a university only a few minutes drive from mine. Zachary was very shy and even more quiet. Although he was two months short of his nineteenth birthday, he was much more boy than man.

Jane told me Zachary was fearful of living in a dorm, around so many people he had never met and living in a strange environment. He feared he would not make friends and would spend his evenings by himself in his dorm room, lonely and alone. Before my brain could catch up with my lips, I had suggested he stay with me. Jane could hear my relief at the thought of having someone here and having someone to take care of. She and her son discussed the idea of him staying with me and he, to my delight, said he would be more comfortable living with me. I have known him his whole life but hadn't seen him in a few years. Ever since he was a child, he has called me "Mama" and I found that to be quite endearing. I prepared the spare bedroom to be his and was, once again, feeling happy and complete. It felt like one of my sons would not be leaving me and, the new sense of alleviation, allowed me to feel like myself again.

I officially lived alone for only two and half days before Zachary came to live with me. Jane followed him to help him move in but, instead of carrying boxes, she drank hard seltzer, smoked cigarettes and paced on my front porch as she prepared to say goodbye to her boy. I understood how she felt and knew I was lucky to get some reprieve. The three of us went to dinner and then Zachary and I returned to my house so he could get settled.

Over the next few weeks, I happily cooked for both of us and we would watch a little TV together at night. He would often claim to be in his room studying but, in all reality, he was mostly playing video games. My maternal instincts kicked in and I made sure he always had fresh towels and bedding, I did his laundry and listened when he spoke. He wasn't mine but he was close enough that I felt needed and that made me feel whole and content.

My sons, even my youngest, seemed to only call me when they needed money. I shouldn't even say they called because typically, it was a short text or two. Zachary always asked me about my day and even asked questions about my job and my life. In the beginning, he was like a child, a friend and a roommate. It was lovely having him there. He got a part time job and insisted on paying my electric bill every month. He cleaned up his messes and took it upon himself to mow the lawn, rake the leaves and keep the driveway and porch free of snow. He didn't have to do any of that and was doing far more for me than my abusive, drunk of an ex husband ever did. By Halloween, I was hoping Zachary would never leave.

As autumn began to melt into winter, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror one day and realized I had gained some weight. "Ugh, I look like a mom" I muttered. The rest of that day was spent putting together a diet and exercise routine. I dug out my old yoga DVDs and vowed to lose weight by Christmas. In my much younger days, I enjoyed a fair bit of success as a gymnast until I discovered partying and boys, so the discipline of losing weight came relatively easy.

After only two weeks, Zachary looked at me and said "Mama, you are losing weight. You look good." It was a passing and polite compliment but I was elated to receive it. I have never considered myself to be one of those women who craves attention from men but, I must admit, I wanted more. If he was noticing, maybe men in the office or in public noticed too. I set out to work even harder to get leaner and look better. Within weeks, I was addicted to the work and the attention it garnered. I didn't feel like a mom in her 40s, instead, I started to feel like a young vibrant woman who expected attention. The ancient wardrobe from the back of my closet trickled out and soon, I traipsed around wearing pencil skirts to work and yoga pants almost everywhere else. I flashed flirtatious smiles and constantly tried to draw attention to my mouth, boobs and butt. It was thrilling and my confidence grew by the day.

By January, I was spending over an hour per day doing yoga and aerobics in my living room. Typically, I would wear a sports bra and leggings. My muffin top had faded away and my arms were regaining tone. Zachary was being supportive daily and I caught him checking me out a few times. Maybe I should not have encouraged him to sneak glances or even stare at me but, I loved feeling his young eyes on me. Of course, he was like a son to me but he was not my son. I sometimes "accidently" let my thong crest out of my leggings and left an extra button or two undone on my blouse. He gawked and I loved it.

My mind wandered even further down this wanton rabbit hole I had created in my own home. My curiosity pondered what he might fantasize about. Was his horny, virgin brain thinking about me? The better I felt about my body, the more lustful my thoughts became. At the office, I adored the feeling of the vice president's eyes on my ass and the copy boy who constantly ogled my boobs made me smile every time it happened. I knew getting involved with anyone at work was forbidden and I wouldn't do it anyway, due to a fear of things getting awkward at work but the more attention I got, the more I wanted.

My opportunities to flaunt at work were limited as I had a job to do but at home, things were different. I could prance around and show off for Zachary as much as I pleased and I certainly did. The poor boy spent much more time in the living room instead of his bedroom. I don't think he ever missed one of my yoga sessions and I saw him take pictures of me with his phone. Maybe I should have stopped him but the thought of him, alone in his room, looking at the pictures and touching himself drove me wild! I felt like such a naughty hostess and mother figure but I was captivated by the idea of being the object of his young, inexperienced, naïve desire.

While running errands one afternoon, I picked up a little lollipop from a basket at at the bank. Honestly, I grabbed it because I like cherry flavored candy but instead of eating it, got distracted and tossed into my purse. After my workout, which got Zachary's attention more than usual and dinner, we sat and watched a tv show together. He kept looking at my legs and I became curious as well as a bit primitive and aroused. I took the lollipop and languidly sucked it as we talked. He tried to act normally but I saw him staring intently at my mouth. He took a throw pillow and tried to casually cover his crotch. The lustful power I realized I had over him was instantly intoxicating and all my wanton and maternal mind craved was to tease and torment him some more.